


I Have to Go

by SparrowPixie



Series: Sweetest Downfall [1]
Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: Danarhi, F/M, My girl has ambitions, Nahri isn’t gonna sit and wait, Pining, Post EOG, Post Empire of Gold, they gotta see each other again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowPixie/pseuds/SparrowPixie
Summary: After five years Nahri has grown tired of being idle. She decides to leave Daevabad in search of what she wants for once
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid
Series: Sweetest Downfall [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985926
Comments: 15
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to littlethiefs and astarisms for pointing out to me the loophole with the seal!

After five years, Nahri still had trouble admitting it to herself. Admitting that he was and always would be her sweet undoing. After all this time, the man she loved first, was still the one she loved. Nahri had not shed tears that day he had left her for no reason. A great number of people were outraged at the Afshin’s departure, still rightfully clamoring for his blood. Another great number were glad to be rid of the Daeva warrior, grateful to hear that he would never be able to return through the veil. A small number though, mourned the loss of Darayavahoush e-Afshin, wanting for his return - for their hero’s redemption.

Nahri could not place herself in any of those numbers. There was no group that simply missed him. No band of people hungry for his smile or aching for the sound of his laughter. No one’s fingers itched to feel the scalding touch of his skin or the soft locks of hair threaded through their knuckles. She was alone in her grief for him. Worse though, Nahri could not allow herself to mourn publicly. He was a monster. A criminal. And the moment she showed her compassion for him, her stony facade would be lost and they would see beneath the mask of justice and bravery that she was still the girl from Cairo in love with a dashing warrior. 

There was nothing special about the day Nahri finally found herself able to face the truth. She had only been walking the length of the trees outside the city walls, feeding apricots to Mishmish and it hit her.

_ I have to go. _

Nahri couldn’t sit still in Daevabad another moment. Everything that she wanted for the city was either there or being worked on by someone else. The hospital was thriving - Jamshid had rightfully earned the title of Baga Nahid. The walls between the quarters had been destroyed - it created a feeble sense of unity but that would change over time. It would grow stronger. But there was nothing she could do to help that along.

If there was one task left unfinished, it was her reign. Prejudice was slow dying and despite all she had done, everyone she had saved, trust and respect for a female, shafit leader was in short supply.

But oddly enough, this task being unfinished didn’t bother her. Nahri had no desire to rule or to lead. She longed to be needed but not required. There was only one person fit to lead the people of Daevabad - one person who would do so fairly and selflessly. Alizayd. He  _ belonged  _ on that throne.

Nahri belonged to no one, and there was one person she knew could understand that. And he was a world away.

Sometimes she caught herself staring at the river or the lake and imagining him emerging from the waters, guided in by an overly generous Alizayd or a sullen looking marid creature. 

Sometimes she would walk to the veil, stand before it and imagine him stepping through, wearing that same roguish smile that was embedded in her memory. 

_ “But then how would I see you smile one last time?”  _ he had said, his own emerald eyes shining with tears unshed. 

She had known what he was trying to do - he was trying to make it easy on her. To have things be simple and be over with. A cut and dry ending. An attempt at a selfless act. It had only served to leave her heartbroken. No closure. Only imaginings of him gone and wandering the world without her. 

_ I have to go. _

The thought repeated in her mind endlessly for what felt like weeks but was only a day. Nahri had known she had to leave since he stepped through that veil. She had waited so long to admit it to herself that it had practically worn through her.

Nahri had no idea how it was done, but she had to learn how to pass the seal to Jamshid. Ever since she came across a mention of it in those ancient Nahid texts, the idea had tugged at her endlessly, and she couldn’t bring herself to leave her people helpless without magic again.

Just because most of the population of Daevabad made her feel isolated and out of sorts didn’t mean she wanted them to be without magic. She would leave them, but she would not leave them wanting. For all their resentment, they were still her people and there was far more good in them than bad.

Ever the pragmatist, ever the one to pick herself back up, Nahri set to work. She had no idea at the time it would be two years until she figured out the process.

Mishmish by her side, she took to the clearing in the jungle surrounding Daevabad, a dozen scrolls under her arm. 

_ I have to go. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nahri passes the seal and sets out on her own adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day. Why not?

Jamshid understood. He understood perhaps better than anyone else, even more than her grandfather who strongly advised her to come back to visit. Jamshid knew the ache of a lonely heart. He knew the thirst and longing to hear the voice of the one you loved. He remembered the pain of not knowing if or when you would lay eyes on them ever again. The agony of realizing they were out there somewhere, wanting you and you weren’t with them. It was a fate he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy and especially not his own blood.

So when Nahri approached him and explained the process of passing him the seal two years later, he agreed without question. Her throat had been thick, voice barely above a whisper when she had asked and the moment he put his hand on her shoulder, Nahri had lost her battle with her tears. 

He was happy to take over the hospital. He was happy to look after Mishmish. He was happy to tell Alizayd she wanted him to lead in her place. He was happy that she would be with the man who made her happy.

_ “Even if it is the man who riddled my body with arrows,”  _ he had chuckled, trying to bring some levity to the situation.  _ “But you must come back someday. If only for a little while, please return.” _

It wasn’t even a question. Daevabad was a part of her now. She would come back eventually, but for now, she had to set out. She couldn’t go another day here. She had to find him again. Even if she couldn’t - or wouldn’t - allow herself to tie him down, she had to see him at least once more. Dara could leave her then - all she needed was to confess her feelings. The feelings that had been strengthened by their distance and time apart. The feelings that had grown when Zaynab and Aqisa had visited, relaying their adventures with her Afshin. Still grumpy, still somber, but not unhappy and not without the softness Nahri had assumed she would be the only one to see.

So under the cover of night, Jamshid had met Nahri just by the veil and the deed was done.

She stumbled out of Daevabad and into the Gozan with only a rucksack of supplies to her name. Nahri had a long journey ahead of her - but by the most high, she was tired and she needed rest. Swapping the seal had been a simple process but it was very, very taxing and Nahri was partly worried for Jamshid’s journey back to his home.

But for once in the past decade, it was Nahri’s responsibility to look after herself. To use her pragmaticism selfishly. Jamshid was an adult. He was a Nahid. He’d find a way back home. Right now, she needed to find somewhere to sleep.

She took shelter in one of the caves lining the river. Not just any cave though.  _ The  _ cave. The one where they had spent the night together. The one where he was supposed to have delivered her the slave vessels to be freed. Perhaps he would meet her here tonight. Perhaps he would finally return a vessel. That would make this whole endeavor so much easier. She wouldn’t have to seek him out, to search for the wind. He would simply come to her. 

Lying in the cave, her body yearned for rest but her mind wandered. She thought about what she would say when she saw him (because it was now a matter of  _ when  _ and not if). Would she lead with a barbed remark? Would she cry? Would he remember her? Would he be surprised at how five years had changed her? Would he notice the lines on her forehead or how she occasionally would have a single grey hair? Would he curse her for not trying to find him sooner? Would he have isolated himself till he was a brooding, heartbroken mess? What if, after all these years, he hated her for letting him go?

Nahri rolled on her side, letting the cold floor of the cave soothe the heat in her cheeks. It was best not to dwell on what reuniting would be like. Her time was better spent trying to think of how she might find him in this great, wide world.

He came to her in a dream that night. He had lit a fire to warm her. She reached for him just as she had ten years ago.

_ “Find me, little thief.” _

Her fingers stretched out to him, trying to grab the fabric of his shirt and pull him to her. But he was only a ghost in her mind - a shadow of her memory.

“How does one find the wind, Afshin?”

_ “Follow whispers.” _

When she woke to the light of dawn, she resolved that that was what she would do. She would follow the whispers. Nahri would go town to town and chase down rumors and gossip. 

Over the next few weeks of chasing hearsays all over Daevastana, Nahri was tired. If she couldn’t find him, then perhaps he could find her. But she would need to make that easy.

Nahri had been disguising herself. She had hid her face with a veil and taken on the identity of a weary traveler. 

Well, that stopped now. Nahri straightened her chador and resolved to stop wandering with the purpose of finding Dara. She would return to her roots. She would start helping people. Healing them. Telling them her name and to spread news of her good deeds.

She spent what money she had to buy herself a luxurious tent in a small traveler’s camp outside of Zariaspa. People who needed healing could come to her and all she asked in return was that they spread news of her practice and if they had any books or food they could spare she would gladly take them. 

Nahri was surprised at just how bustling her life as a self elected outcast became. She had multiple patients a day, each varying in needs and temperaments. In her free time she took long walks and read through old texts. At night she would lay on her sleeping mat and admire Dara’s dagger, her thumb tracing over the hilt mindlessly as she recounted her day to her imaginary Afshin. He would listen most ardently, occasionally admonishing her for being so prickly with one of her patients or not putting her foot down and demanding more in return for her services.

“Shut up, Afshin. What do I need money for anyway?” she snickered one night.

Two months passed and no word of or from Dara. She enjoyed her work but was growing restless. Her fingers itched to practice more. To explore more.

Nahri resolved it was time to move on. She would start heading for human cities.

Abadan was her first stop and she made this known to each patient that visited her that final day.

Some scowled, telling Nahri that she should not interfere with humans - telling her that if she was not careful she would end up with a shafit child. Well, she’d interfered with humans for most of her life and it had been fine. Not to mention, she was a responsible, grown woman, she could look out for herself.

Nahri set out for Abadan. She would practice there until one of the following happened: Dara would find her, or she would make enough money to go home.

To Cairo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to astarisms and littlethiefs for bringing the seal loophole to my attention. My girl Nahri needed some adventure


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nahri starts a journey healing in a human city

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea of Nahri adventuring and practicing for herself

Nahri asked her clients in Abadan if they’d come across an ungodly beautiful man with green eyes. It was unlikely any human had seen him or even remembered him, but there was no harm in asking. Besides, if Dara did happen across this town, he would hear tell of a woman healer inquiring about someone matching his description. It would only improve her chances of him finding her.

Over the first two months of her stay, only one person cited having encountered him. The young boy had said it was sometime ago and that he had seemed to be in quite a hurry. There was no mention of where he was headed though. Another dead end.

But life in Abadan wasn’t entirely hopeless. Nahri had ample opportunities to practice surgery. She’d forgotten how complex and intriguing the human body was. It was fickle and soft and imperfect. An intricate puzzle that she knew all the best ways to solve. A game where she happily cheated and passed it off as hard earned wisdom. 

As had become custom, she recounted her days to her imaginary Afshin. She gave him every detail. How the boy who worked the fruit stand was throwing up a shade of vomit she couldn’t identify. How blood had squirted her in the face from the head wound of the bath house girl that had slipped. 

_ “And this is an occupation you enjoy?” _

“Fabulously. Yes.”

_ “Is this the piece of happiness I told you to steal?”  _ smirked Imaginary Dara.

“No,” Nahri said, her tone colored with a sudden sadness. “I let it go that day... I let you go.”

The Afshin grimaced.  _ “Well, then you must find me. Do not let me go again.” _

“I do not intend to, my Afshin,” she said. Nahri cleared her throat, resuming her habit of fiddling with Dara’s dagger. “Now, let us discuss the man whose arm I sewed back together…”

She was a medical marvel to all of those who encountered her. Tales of her skill made their way through the cities. A young woman with the practiced hand of an expert. People flocked to her and in almost no time at all, she had acquired the funds needed to get her to Cairo. She was almost reluctant at how quickly she had reached her goal. Almost as though she had not earned it.

Then again, Nahri had always “earned” things her own way. Hard work, but never in the most traditional sense of the word.

But now was not the time to question good fortune.

Nahri gave the better half of her money to a camel caravan and set off on the three week journey to Cairo.

The entire journey she was reminded of her first adventure with the Afshin to Daevabad. Sleeping beneath the stars, modest meals and early mornings followed by long days of travel with the sun beating down on her. Nahri wondered if when she finally met Dara they would resume traveling like this. Chasing ifrit together. Having adventures.

It sounded far more enjoyable than bureaucracy, even if all they ate was stale manna.

The closer they got to Cairo, the more Nahri began to wonder what she would do there.

First, find Yaqub. See if he was still there and if he still had an opening for someone to run his apothecary seven years later.

Second, visit the cemetery and try to summon her Afshin.

It was a long shot to say the least but still an avenue worth pursuing.

She had done it once by accident - so it should be easy enough if she was actually trying this time. Also, if he thought about her as often as she thought about him, perhaps he would come looking for her in Cairo.

She tried not to dwell on that particular question. If he thought about her as often as she thought about him. If he missed her as she missed him. If the second he stepped through that veil he had wanted to come back - if he realized it was a mistake. If Dara had somehow came back that day, she would’ve told him that they would figure out how to make things work. They would navigate the challenges and tricky situations together. He could earn his place with his family with her. He didn’t need to do it alone.

His words replayed in her mind. About how he wondered what it would be like between if he had done things differently.

That night when they stopped to rest, Nahri lay on her sleeping mat fiddling with Dara’s dagger again.

“What did you mean? When you mentioned doing things differently?” she asked her imaginary Afshin.

_ “Many things, my thief,”  _ he sighed, sadly.  _ “I would have said ‘yes’ to you that night in the Grand Temple. I would not have come to your bed to steal you away against your will. I would have taken your hand and put an end to Manizeh’s carnage before it was too late.” _

“Well, now you’ve got a second chance. Let’s make it count.”

As the days passed, and they neared their destination, Nahri found Dara becoming more of a warm memory that kept her company and less of an aching in her heart. Regardless of whether or not she had found him, there was now far more of a possibility of their reunion than there had been when she was trapped in Daevabad. That was enough to make her longing bearable. Not to mention, she was practicing freely with no one to answer to. No one to tell her that her bedside manner was unprofessional or that she shouldn’t get frustrated with the patients who ignored her instructions. No one to tell her that she should find a husband. No one to tell her that she should settle down in the palace.

The camel jostled Nahri about somewhat, but over the years she’d become a much more proficient rider. Perhaps proficient was a generous word but she most assuredly wouldn’t fall off. She wondered what Dara would think of that. 

Eventually, after what felt like days, but had been weeks, the pyramids came into view beyond the sunset.

Nahri felt her eyes prickle with tears and a hard lump develop in her throat as the glittering city came into view. 

She was home again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry - we’re getting to Dara


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dara receives some news and seeks the help of old friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some Dara POV for you all

When word of the Banu Nahida’s sudden departure from Daevabad first fell upon Dara’s ears, he had been on a Sahrayn pirate ship chasing a rumor of an emerald plaited bangle worn by a “sorceress.” The pirates weren’t essential to the adventure but he had come to appreciate the company of one sand ship in particular. They seemed to be able to overlook his transgressions in favor of his murdering his queen and his endless quest to seek out slave vessels. 

_ “You’re practically a pirate,”  _ Fiza, a fiery girl with braids had grinned.

Ever since, when he craved company, he would join the pirates on their ship and travel the desert with them. 

He landed on their deck with a thud, the crew members startled for a moment at his sudden appearance but over the years they’d grown used to him materializing on their ship.

“Aye, Afshin? Have you heard the news?” asked Fiza. Her familiar face was a comfort.

He held up the leather pouch containing two rings and one newly acquired emerald bangle with a roguish grin. “That I’ve found my  _ third _ vessel?” 

“No,” she said, crossing the deck with a smug expression. “Your Banu Nahida has traded the seal to the Baga Nahid. She’s gone from Daevabad.”

Dara felt as though his magic would burn through his skin. His eyes widened and grip tightened on the pouch and his fingers trembled. Fiza snickered and glanced at her crew mates. She said something that made them all laugh and hoot at the Afshin. He wasn’t sure what. All he could hear was a buzzing in his ears.

Nahri had found a way to leave? 

“She… she has left Daevabad? Why?”

“I couldn’t begin to tell you, Darayavahoush,” Fiza shrugged, tossing one of her braids over her shoulder. “But it was months and months ago. I wouldn’t waste another moment dropping off those vessels of yours…”

He was aware it was rude, he was aware he looked childish, but without a word the Afshin turned into the wind and was off to the Gozan - beneath him he heard the amused cries of his Sahrayn friends.

Dara checked every cave along the Gozan for Nahri. A few of them had the remains of campfires, some of them contained discarded clothes, but no one was there.

He stood in  _ their  _ cave now. No sign of her anywhere. He debated on whether or not to leave the vessels he’d recovered - he hadn’t been back to this spot in five years. Perhaps Jamshid would retrieve them. Perhaps Nahri would return soon to get them.

What if she had already gone back to Daevabad? What if he had missed his chance already?

Dara looked down at the pouch in his hand, inhaling and deciding what to do next. He was tired after his long journey from Qart Sahar to the Gozan, but spending the night in  _ this _ cave wasn’t an option. His heart could not take it. He’d done so well at making Nahri a fond memory, dulling the ache of his heart into a soft hum. He feared one night here may break him.

So Dara trudged out of the caves, lifting the hood of his desert traveling jacket to cover his Afshin mark. He did not wish to be recognized by anyone coming or going to the veil.

Dara made a camp with what little strength he had left in the woods of western Daevastana. Laying on his sleeping mat, he closed his eyes and thought of her. 

What was she like now? Why had she left Daevabad? Would she be glad to see him? Would she cry? Would _he_ cry? Would she spit at the sight of him? Would she hate him? Had she left to find him because she hated him and wanted to kill him? Was it a trap?

Dara shut his eyes tighter. Should he try to find her at all? Perhaps it was best to let her come to him.

Dara cursed himself. To even suggest that Nahri had left Daevabad and spent months idle in Daevastana was foolish. He should have known the moment he heard tale of her heading to the human city of Abadan that she would’ve quickly moved on to Cairo.

She hadn’t left Daevabad for him. She’d left for Cairo. The only reason she’d traveled about so much was in order to make enough money to gain passage there.

What had made him think that Nahri had any interest in reuniting with him anyway? The fact that eight years ago she wept when he left her? That five years before that she had mourned his death? No, she had grown tired of Daevabad and set out to go back to the place she loved most.

Besides, if she had wanted to see him he would’ve heard that from one of the many people he interrogated. 

_ No, she couldn’t risk any Daeva knowing she was looking for The Scourge. She is counting on you to take a hint… _

He shook himself from those thoughts. How conceited of him. It was wishful thinking and nothing more.

But then, on the day he was leaving the city of Abadan, he bumped into an elderly woman in the town bazaar. She looked at him, baffled then embarrassed.

“Pardon, sir. I didn’t even see you.”

He waved his hand errantly and started past her.

“Are you looking for Nahri?” 

Dara froze in his tracks and turned back around. “What did you say?”

“The healer. Nahri. She lived here a few months back. Asked around about if anyone had seen an ungodly handsome fellow with green eyes,” the elderly woman explained, her voice hoarse over the bustling crowd. “That’s you, is it not?”

Dara nearly choked. He nodded at the woman.

She frowned. “She’s moved on, I’m afraid. A real shame. She did a lot of good here - made a lot of people happy. Saved a few limbs,” the old woman chuckled. “She packed up and went to Cairo with a caravan a while back. Said something about an apothecary friend there.”

“She has left for Cairo?” Dara confirmed, trying to keep his voice even.

The woman’s eyes were distant. She suddenly refocused on Dara, startling a bit. “I’m sorry. Forgot you were there,” she muttered to herself. “Um, yes. Nahri left for Cairo… I want to say a little over two months ago.”

Dara seized the woman’s hand giving it a grateful squeeze. “Thank you,” he said graciously.

As Dara left the bazaar he felt his heart swell. It felt so large that it may burst through his ribs. Nahri  _ had  _ been looking for him.

Maybe she had left Daevabad solely to go back to Cairo, but now he knew that if their paths crossed she would be glad to see him. She had asked about him. After all this time, perhaps she had a place for him in her heart just as he had for her. There was only one way to find out. Dara was going to Cairo. He’d scour the whole city if need be. He was going to find her.

While it would take the average human about a month to reach Cairo, traveling in his wind form with intermediate breaks, it would take Dara about a week. 

He tried not to think much about what he would say to Nahri when he found her or what she would say to him. He was afraid he would lose his nerve if he dwelled on it too much. It was better to keep focused on the task at hand - reaching Cairo.

He’d visited the city more than a few times over the years - usually coming whenever he felt a yearning to see her. It comforted him to look upon the streets where she had likely walked, the river she had probably visited, the stores she had perhaps frequented. Almost like anyone of the women could be her. Like he was watching over her. His favorite place to visit was the cemetery.

Not only because that was where he first met Nahri, but because it was usually desolate at night. No one lingered so Dara could walk around without feeling like a ghost, a wraith, a creature skulking in the shadows. 

It was difficult for Dara to believe that the next time he set foot in the city he wouldn’t be imagining Nahri was somewhere around - she would actually be there. His stomach flipped at the idea of them being so close after all this time.

Dara did not want to think of this as a second chance. Some sort of opportunity to win her back. 

But it was difficult not to daydream. To hope that her eyes sparkled when she saw him. To see that smile he could recall in his dreams. To feel her delicate hands touch his skin. He wasn’t sure what would follow, but that wasn’t hard to imagine either.

_ Get a hold of yourself. _

He wasn’t ready. He  _ knew  _ that. Dara needed a clear head when he saw her again. There were two people in the world he knew would be happy to offer him advice. It would delay his journey but confessing his concerns to them was imperative at this point.

Tracking down the two was never that hard. He had sought them out on a number of occasions and you could usually find them camping in a jungle or visiting some ruins. They were so easy to locate that Dara often fought the urge to rejoin their crusade for adventure.

But Dara had ifrit to hunt on his own and places to go that they could not follow. Not to mention it was abundantly clear that the two needed some time to themselves. There were activities and conversations the Afshin knew couldn’t happen in his presence so their encounters had become more of casual drop ins then they were the long journeys the three had embarked upon just a few months after he’d left Daevabad.

Regardless, he couldn’t set out to Cairo without getting some advice from the only couple he had a relationship with. 

He found Zaynab and Aqisa one breezy evening exactly where they said they’d be a little over a year ago. In Agnivansha. 

He’d discovered their camp flying over the misty tree tops.

Dara landed in the forest and promptly shifted into his mortal form. Ahead he saw a campfire and could hear the familiar, boisterous laugh of Aqisa.

He approached the clearing, flickering with firelight. Two forms sat on the ground, one with their head on the other’s shoulder. Dara apprehensively stepped into their modest camp, clearing his throat so as not to cause any alarm. 

Regardless, Aqisa whirled and quickly had a dagger at his throat.

He arched a challenging brow, lazily grabbing her hand and lowering the weapon. “I would have expected you to have heard me approaching sooner,” Dara muttered disapprovingly. “Which one of you is charged with keeping lookout?”

Dara conjured the three of them a dinner of saffron rice, nettle soup, stuffed peppers and wine. He listened to Zaynab’s tales of their most recent adventures. Apparently they had bought a map off of a Tukharistani trader and it had led them to a nest of chamrosh. They’d met a herder that raised karakadanns. Dara didn’t overlook the way Aqisa seemed to admire Zaynab as she told each harrowing story, the whisper of a smile on her lips, her eyes soft. She laughed at every bad joke and flushed at each compliment. Dara had forgotten the unabashed nature of Zaynab’a affection, while Aqisa was slightly more hesitant.

“It’s been over a year, Afshin,” Aqisa remarked. “What new tales do you have to speak of?”

Dara froze, uncertain of how to breach the topic of Nahri’s departure and his quest to seek her out. Zaynab’s eyes sparkled and a grin spread on her lips. So she knew.

“I’m sorry to tell you that we haven’t happened across the Banu Nahida,” Zaynab said quietly. “We caught word of her leaving but haven’t heard from her.”

Dara shook his head. “No, I’ve… I know where she is.”

Aqisa snickered. “Of course you do.”

The Afshin rolled his eyes, cheeks warming. He wasn’t sure how to ask for their help or how to express his concerns. Dara had never really gone to anyone for guidance. Years after the carnage that he’d caused Dara still struggled with not taking orders from anyone. Self reliance was difficult.

Zaynab stoked the campfire before him sending up a flurry of smoke and sparks. “So are you going to see her?”

Dara swallowed, eyes trained on the flames. “I am.”

“And what will you say?” 

“I confess that I do not know.”

“Afshin, surely that hair is accompanied by some self assurance,” Aqisa grinned. At Dara’s scowl she raised her palms innocently. “I only mean that I do not see why you are so concerned.”

Dara averted his gaze attempting to appear nonchalant. “I am troubled about what her reaction may be.”

It took Zaynab no time at all to respond. “She’ll be thrilled, Afshin. Didn’t you say that she cried when you went your separate ways?”

“Much may have changed since then, princess,” Dara said warily. “I spoke with a woman who had seen her a few months ago. She said that Nahri had been looking for me.”

“Well, there you have it,” Aqisa shrugged.

“But what if upon seeing me she changes her mind? She’s gone back to Cairo. She may have no interest in seeing me again.”

“Then she will say so. The Banu Nahida does not pull her punches,” Zaynab remarked. 

Dara nodded. Their words had provided some comfort but he was still not convinced Nahri would welcome him back into her life. She could have anyone she pleased. There was no certainty that her heart still belonged to him. Dara chewed the inside of his cheek, his brows furrowed.

“Afshin,” Zaynab said gently. “Would it not be worse to never know what could’ve been?”

The observation, though simple, was enough to set Dara straight. Zaynab was right. The only thing worse than Nahri’s rejection, was not knowing what could’ve been. He simply could not carry on without knowing. He had to go.

“It is a long journey, is it not?” Aqisa remarked. “Stay the night with us.”

“No, I could not intrude-“

“Stay the night with us and make us breakfast tomorrow,” she drawled.

“As you wish,” Dara surrendered. His eyes flickered to their modest accommodations. He groaned. “But by the most high, you both still cannot pitch a tent to save your lives. Stand aside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just imagine a sleepover with Dara for me. Like a traditional one playing would you rather or never have I ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dara arrives in Cairo to continue his search for Nahri

The journey to Cairo was accompanied by a happiness Dara hadn’t felt in years.

The familiar Nile river came into view below him, glimmering in the glow of the setting sun. The sight of water would typically send a chill of unease down his spine, but not this one. This river in particular was a favorite of his. A sight he welcomed. He knew that when he saw the Nile it meant he was close to her home. Or now, rather, he was close to her.

He found a spot out of sight and shifted into his mortal form, gathering himself. 

He brushed off his palms on his pine green traveling jacket and took a deep breath to calm the fire burning through his chest. It may be easier to do a sweep of the city from above, but Dara wanted to walk the streets for once. Not to appear out of thin air before her like some sort of god, but to walk up to her as a man. A man who had missed her dearly. A man who not a day went by that he didn’t think of her. What would she say to him, he wondered-

_Stop wondering. Go find her._

Dara righted himself and set off down the bustling streets. His shoulder collided with many people but for the most part they didn’t bat an eye and kept moving. He did his best to stay out of their way but it was difficult - at least in the main bazaar it was. 

It was easy to see why Nahri was so attached to this place. It was alive. It had a heartbeat. The smell of fire, spices, perfumes and all matter of unnamed aromas lingered in the air. Voices varying in volume argued and laughed, carrying with them an almost tangible camaraderie.

The Afshin couldn’t decide where to begin, overwhelmed by the chaotic atmosphere that was Cairo.

_“Said something about an apothecary friend there.”_

That’s where he would start. He would search every apothecary in Cairo to find her. Draw the attention of as many humans as it took to get answers. He could feel it. After months of searching for her he could feel that Nahri was here. 

It wasn’t until the sixth apothecary Dara ducked into did he get the idea to be more specific with the owners about what he was seeking.

“Most of the apothecaries will be closing soon, sir. You may need to wait till tomorrow,” said the young man, rinsing out his vials. A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “You said it was a woman who would be with him?”

“Yes, likely an apprentice of sorts,” Dara tried. 

The man’s mouth twisted. “That would stand out, you see. Not a lot of women apprentices in the apothecary business,” he muttered. “You could try Yaqub’s apothecary. He’s got a young woman with him who is a surgeon. Rumor has it she’s helping his son take over, but she’s far too talented to be an apprentice.”

“Nahri?” Dara said, brows raised.

The man blinked and shook his head as though trying to reconcile the image of Dara before him. The Afshin fought off an irritable growl. 

“What?”

“The woman surgeon. Is her name Nahri?”

“Yes, I believe so actually,” he mused. “But Yaqub says she plans on traveling around and leaving his son to run things until she’s ready to settle down. Probably trying to find a husband who isn’t intimidated by her profession I bet…” 

Dara didn’t care for the man’s tone, but he had given him the information he needed. Nahri was working for this Yaqub gentleman. He would need to find that apothecary before she set out to travel again. 

“Where is this apothecary?” 

“On the other side of town, next to a cafe’ and some apartments. I don’t think you’ll make it before closing time though. You’ll probably need to wait until morning,” the man said with a shrug. “That said, I've really got to start cleaning up so if you would please excuse me.”

Dara offered a nod and exited the apothecary. The streets were starting to clear up as shopkeepers and families headed home for dinner, allowing Dara much more space to navigate the city. He could make it to the other side of the city before closing, surely. He need only take to the wind.

But something stopped him. His legs felt very heavy. His heart started to pound. The idea of confronting Nahri after all these years had become very daunting. 

What if he happened upon the apothecary to find she was actually courting this Yaqub’s son? What if over the months she had changed her mind about him? There were many unappealing possibilities and Dara suddenly had to fight the urge to run. It wasn’t too late. He could find his pirate friends in Qart Sahar - they could share a drink and a laugh over how nervous he had become at the prospect of reuniting with Nahri. He could try to gather his courage and come back in a few weeks.

But how many nights had he prayed he would see her smile again? How many times had he closed his eyes tight and tried to imagine how she looked or what her life was like now? How many times had he cursed himself for leaving her - for making their goodbye such a finale?

_“Would it not be worse to never know what could’ve been?”_

No. He would see her tomorrow. The burning in his chest be damned, he would bring himself to look upon her face.

Dara gathered himself and decided that a walk through the city ought to ease his mind. He could clear his head. He knew exactly where to go.

It took him a few hours but eventually the alleyways started to look vaguely familiar. He was getting closer to the cemetery - or the City of the Dead as he learned it was called by locals. 

He saw a shadowed corner and was reminded of the moment he saw her standing there. Hiding in the darkness where she thought he couldn’t see her. Dara recalled pursing his lips and sending an arrow her way to scare her out. He remembered the way his body jolted as he watched the skin seal itself back up before his eyes. His knees shook as the memory resurfaced of tearing down the streets in search of an escape. The complete reliance on a stranger and the thought repeating in his mind that he must save this person.

Dara hadn’t known then that the girl whose throat had been mauled by a ghoul, would become so dear to him.

The gates came into view and along with it the headstones. He recognized the sparse smattering of trees and bushes and the dirt path bathed in moonlight that wound through the graveyard. Just a decade ago, he had been summoned here. Ahead Dara could see the tree he’d set aflame upon his arrival that night, swearing to the shadows and swathed in similar traveling clothes to what he wore now.

By the tree stood a woman in a light blue abaya and chador. Dara felt a chill run down his spine. He should leave. This woman had likely come here to mourn and here he was, eyeing her like a golem.

“You can be really imperious sometimes…” she muttered to no one in particular. “And I’ve told you time after time that I can take care of myself.” 

Dara felt his breath catch. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. The tone of her voice, the air of authority. Was he imagining it? Was his mind playing tricks on him? He had pictured her in the people of Cairo before but never this vividly.

As though in a trance, Dara’s feet carried him closer.

“I’m not an idiot. I already tried reaching you that way and it didn’t work,” the woman said holding up a dagger that gleamed in the moonlight. 

He recognized that hilt. He knew the dagger. Dara staggered back slightly. 

Of all the reunitings he’d imagined, he had never thought that he would stumble upon her in such a clandestine manner. He had always pictured their meeting to be rather unexpected but never so unceremonious. Beggars could not be choosers though. Dara opened his mouth to speak, every word in every language he knew immediately lost to him.

“Yes, yes, I’m leaving,” she grumbled. “I’m getting tired of waiting for you to catch up though.”

He expected her to turn and face him. To catch him in the act. He wanted her to be the first one to talk. But instead she started off towards the cemetery exit with a sigh, sliding the dagger up the sleeve of her abaya. 

He spoke in a hurry, almost tripping over his words, the first thing that came to mind. “May the fires burn brightly for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would give anything to see Dara dealing with shop owners and retail - ANYTHING


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dara and Nahri reunite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the one you’ve been waiting for!

“May the fires burn brightly for you…”

The words came from behind and were spoken by a hauntingly familiar voice. Pins and needles went down her spine and for a moment, she felt as though she may run. 

Was it in her head? Was it the imaginary Afshin she talked to so often or had he finally found her? After all this time, leaving him breadcrumbs in her wake, did he stand behind her now? Her heart could not take it if she turned around and all that was there was her pretend interpretation of the man she had missed. She would be ruined.

But she had to do it. She had to face that voice. She’d been dreaming of it, starved for it, for years.

Nahri slowly turned, her breath held in trepidation. 

He stood before her in traveling clothes the same shade of pine green that she vividly remembered setting off his emerald eyes perfectly. He was every bit the man from her memory, if a little more anxious than she had imagined. His brows were furrowed, palms pressed together in a hasty gesture that quickly collapsed. He removed his cap, fiddling with it anxiously.

She took a step forward, unblinking at him. He seemed to take her in with a similar amount of disbelief.

“Dara?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

Dara looked as though he’d been plucked from her mind and placed before her. Just like the memory of him appeared to her on those sleepless nights.

Her hand stretched out for his cheek. “Are you real?”

The corner of his lip quirked up ever so slightly. “Yes.”

Nahri let her fingers touch his cheek - she recoiled at the scalding heat realizing that this was him. He was here in the flesh. No longer a ghost or a shadow. Very much a man.

“Have I… have I arrived too late?” he asked with a shaky laugh. “It seems bureaucracy has driven you to madness.”

Nahri shook her head and without thinking, flung her arms around his neck. She was comforted by the scent of smoke and citrus emanating from his dark hair. It had always been too easy around Dara to lose herself and instantly forget who she was supposed to be. She didn’t have to be resilient or fierce for Dara. She could lose herself with him and he would not judge or care or tell her that she had to be strong. 

His arms wrapped around her in response, his hand cupping the back of her head, fingers clutching at her chador as silent tears fell upon her shoulders.

She wasn’t certain how long they stood like that, tangled in one another. When they parted it was still night and the cemetery was still vacant. 

He was drinking her in, green eyes still shining with tears. His thumb ran across the length of her cheekbone.

“The years have been kind to you, Banu Nahida,” he remarked softly. 

Nahri felt her face warm beneath his already hot fingers. 

That rakish grin that had always made her swoon, spread on his face. “Even if you have lost your mind and speak to shadows.”

Nahri let out a tearful laugh. “I was talking to my imaginary Darayavahoush. He is equally as infuriating but very receptive and mild mannered.”

“Then he is imaginary Darayavahoush indeed,” Dara said, his eyes still combing her head to toe. “I hope that I am a sufficient replacement.”

Nahri offered a wry smile. “You will do splendidly, but imaginary Dara  _ did _ say yes to me that night in the Grand Temple.”

Dara’s face fell, his forehead creasing as he tucked a strand of hair that had escaped Nahri’s chador back. “Then I envy imaginary Dara.”

Nahri wanted to frown at his grim expression, but she had to admit that she was more than delighted to hear him admit his feelings. To hear him admit out loud what she suspected he would have done differently all those years ago. Creator, so much time had passed.

“I haven’t seen you in almost eight years,” Nahri marveled aloud. “And you look almost exactly how I remember.”

“ _ Almost _ ?” he smirked. 

Nahri laughed softly, taking his hands in hers and threading their fingers together. “No, you just seem different. You seem… lighter.”

The Afshin seemed slightly abashed, turning his face away briefly.

Nahri truly couldn’t think of a better word to describe him. It was still apparent that Dara wore his guilt like a second skin, but the way he stood before her now reminded her of the Dara from when they’d said goodbye. A little broken but rid of his ever-present sorrow. Bits of him chipped and cracked, misshapen pieces wedged into places they didn’t quite fit, but he was holding himself together with unwavering strength. He was free. It was astonishing what the simple gift of having a choice had done for Dara. But Nahri knew the importance of free will. It couldn’t be underestimated. When she had been able to  _ see _ Daevabad, to run her hospital without Ghassan’s boot on her neck, she had felt a great weight lifted off of her. She could see why Dara loved the city. Fragments of the person she used to be had come back. She no longer had to hide her feelings or bite her tongue. 

His eyes met hers once again and Nahri blinked, still surprised that he had practically materialized before her. In the place she visited almost every night to try and calm her racing thoughts. Where she’d once visited to try and summon him again, slicing her palm and pleading in Divasti.

“Took you long enough,” she smiled. “I left Daevabad ages ago.”

The Afshin reached into his pocket and removed a pouch. He gave it a gentle shake letting the contents jingle. “I’ve been preoccupied gathering these vessels for you.”

Nahri’s stomach lurched. She had poured many nights into studying the Nahid texts with Jamshid. They’d transcribed with Ali till dawn once. But researching and understanding any process was much different than putting it into practice. There was no guarantee of success. Her Afshin had been roaming the world for eight years fulfilling the quest he set out for himself, only for her to reward him with trepidation on her part. 

“But the moment I heard you had left,” Dara continued, “I set out to find you. I didn’t have much luck until an elderly woman in Abadan informed me that you had been asking about an ‘ungodly handsome man.’”

“And you immediately assumed it was you?”

Dara grinned. “Should I leave then? Was it not me?”

It was a jest. Nahri knew this. But just hearing him say it. Hearing the word “leave” in his voice, sent a wave of panic over her. She instinctively clung to him, seemingly taking him off guard. It was too late to save face now so she remained this way. His arms wrapped around her again. Nahri heard a ragged laugh escape his lips.

“No,” she said into his shoulder. “Stay this time. Please.”

“As you wish, little thief.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No reuniting scene can do these two justice but that’ll make do for now


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to astarisms for her suggestion

Yaqub, in his old age, had learned that it didn’t do well to meddle in other people’s affairs. Exceptions could be made for family of course, but outside of that, poking your nose in someone else’s business was not something Yaqub did.

Then again, there was Nahri. 

In and out of his life in the blink of an eye. A skin and bones con artist then a practiced healer and now an expert surgeon with a remedy for almost any ailment. She had told him that she couldn’t stay when she’d returned this time. She wanted to see more of the world. One day, she wanted to take him up on his offer to run the apothecary but not just yet. 

She’d offered to school his son on medicine to hold the store over until she was ready to settle in more permanently. Much to his surprise, his son had accepted. Yaqub assumed that medicine was likely much easier to understand when being taught by a beautiful woman. He would have to remind his son that he was married.

_She needs to be married._

Yaqub chided himself. He did not know what was best for Nahri. He knew that. But should her practice be taken away or neglected simply for her gender, who would she go to for money? He wouldn’t be around forever to help her. 

_You fool. She can take care of herself. She’s proven that three times over._

Yaqub wanted the thought to bring him comfort, but it didn’t answer the question as to where Nahri was.

She’d left late to go on her nightly walk. That was not unusual. Every evening Nahri left after supper to go on a walk. She said it was good for her nerves - it was relaxing for her. She’d tucked a dagger into the sleeve of her abaya - also not unusual - and left. 

And now, at dawn the following day, she had not yet returned.

Yaqub chewed his lip holding his cup of tea a little tighter. His old eyes were fixed on the door - even with the glasses he’d been gifted it was getting difficult to see much of anything. He prayed that any moment she’d come striding in with that knowing smirk she was so fond of serving him. He prayed she had not vanished without a word again. Then again, he would take a thoughtless departure over any harm that may have befallen her in the night. 

The stress this girl gave him. What little years Yaqub had left Nahri was certainly wearing away at...

_If she has left without saying goodbye again, the next time she returns it better with a strapping husband._

The door to the apothecary opened slowly accompanied by two voices that sounded far too awake at this hour. One of them was familiar to Yaqub. The other he did not recognize. 

Still in her blue abaya, Nahri stood in the doorway. Yaqub startled at the man on her arm. He squinted through the lenses of his glasses. There was clearly a gentleman with her but Yaqub couldn’t quite focus.

_Damn these old eyes._

Even after whatever Nahri had given him to ease the wear of the cataracts he still couldn’t make out things far away.

“Oh, don’t look so cross, grandfather,” Nahri laughed. She walked out of the man’s embrace and leaned on the counter Yaqub sat behind. “You said just yesterday you wished that I’d come home from one of my evening walks with a husband.”

Yaqub blinked in surprise, his eyes flickering from the handsome man she had entered with back to her. “Husband, eh?”

Nahri rolled her eyes, still the young girl who used to badger him every morning, and beckoned her companion to join her. 

Had she walked in with someone?

Yaqub blinked a few times, shaking his head. His old age must be affecting his memory.

“He’s close enough, grandfather,” Nahri smiled. “He’ll do nicely.”

“Well, does _he_ care to introduce himself?” Yaqub said looking at the broad shouldered man down his nose.

For a strong looking fellow, he certainly seemed nervous as he approached the counter. Yaqub noted his emerald green eyes seemed almost distracted. He knew the look well. 

_Lovestruck._

“Dara,” the man said, offering Yaqub a bow of his head.

Yaqub returned the gesture, his lips turning down at the corners thoughtfully. “Where do you come from, Dara?”

“He comes from Persia,” Nahri interjected, admiring the man unashamedly. 

Yaqub couldn’t blame the girl. This Dara was quite a sight. At least he was whenever Yaqub remembered he was there. 

“I met him when I left Cairo. He saved my life a few times.”

_He can protect her!_

The thought blared loud in Yaqub’s mind. He quickly looked at the man.

“Does danger follow you then?”

“I do not like to think so.”

“Then why do you wear that bow on your back?”

The man looked startled and Yaqub had to stifle a snort. How could this man who could pass for a warrior be frightened of him, a sickly old man? 

“It belonged to my family. I… use it to hunt.”

_She won’t go hungry either!_

“So you know that Nahri is a gifted surgeon, I gather?” Yaqub said loftily. “How does that occupation fair with you?”

“I am not sure I understand the question…”

“Some men find a woman in such a profession to be intimidating rather than worthy of respect,” Yaqub shrugged. “You’re a hunter. She’s a surgeon. Are you affected that people may see you, the man, as serving her?”

Nahri laughed loudly and the man offered a wry smile. Their eyes met exchanging glances that hinted there was more meaning to what Yaqub had said than he intended.

“I could not ask for a higher honor,” Dara said simply.

_He will let her practice!_

Observing him closer Yaqub noted the way he looked at Nahri. The way he carried himself. He seemed old fashioned in the way he had his hands clasped behind his back, but how he seemed to take Nahri in with such reverence was what Yaqub favored in particular.

“Very well. I give my blessing. When is the wedding?”

“Grandfather, _slow down,_ ” Nahri groaned. 

“When will you let me die, _Nahri?_ ” Yaqub muttered. His gaze flicked back to Dara, who straightened up. “Ask her every hour of every day if you have to. I don’t care.”

Dara winced with a sheepish grin. “I do not mean to presume, but you strike me as someone who is well aware that there is no getting Nahri, to do anything she does not wish to.”

Yaqub chuckled. He knew Nahri indeed. 

“You know what I want,” Nahri said, flashing the man a wicked smile.

Yaqub let out a discontented grumble and slid off of his stool, waving a hand at the two and retreating into his office.

“May I stay the night here?” 

Yaqub turned startled to see who this person speaking was. His bleary eyes focused on a man with emerald eyes.

_Dara._

Old age was a cruel thing to the memory.

“Stay wherever you need to, just try to make sure she doesn’t wander off again.”

Yaqub resumed his retreat to his office and only when he’d shut the door leaving Nahri and Dara in his apothecary did he allow himself a warm smile, tears stinging his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End
> 
> May do a couple of separate one shots eventually about Dara/Nahri adventures

**Author's Note:**

> There will probably be about five to seven chapters! Nothing really plot heavy this time


End file.
